


The Things We Leave Behind

by WetSammyWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Slash, Pre-Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6847846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left behind in Blue Earth to start his senior year in high school, Sam has time to think about his life and his brother before he hears a car pull up the driveway.</p><p>Written for the May SPN Writing Challenge. Song prompt was Sunrise Comes Too Soon by Late Night Alumni.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Leave Behind

Nights in Blue Earth were quiet and dark. 

After years of sleeping in motels right off the highway exit ramp where tractor trailers rolled by at 3 am under the sickly amber glow of old street lights, the dead of night in this bucolic town made Sam's skin crawl. Tonight was one of those nights.

Sweaty and restless, he kicked the covers off his legs and dangled his feet over the edge of the little twin bed. There was no relief from a cool breeze through the open bedroom windows, only the sounds of a chorus of frogs singing and the hoot of a lonely barn owl calling for its mate.

As he tried to relax on top of faded cowboy sheets and a too-short mattress, Sam wondered where Dean was right now. He was probably passed out on a queen-sized bed somewhere in Colorado or Wyoming, listening to Dad snore in the next bed. Or more likely, listening to his last call hook-up make her excuses as she gathered up her clothes to leave.

The first time that Sam slept in one of Pastor Jim's twin beds in the rectory, he was only five years old. John tucked him into these same sheets and told him that he was a big boy now and could sleep all alone. After his dad went to bed, a teary-eyed Sam snuck across the room and slipped into Dean's bed. Moist little hiccups were the only sound he made as he curled up and fell asleep warm and safe beneath Dean's arm.

Tonight, the twin bed across the room stood empty.

When Dad first suggested that Sam stay with Pastor Jim six weeks ago, it was a relief. Dad said it would be a good idea for Sam to start out his senior year at the local high school and stay there for at least a semester. He would get a chance to join the soccer team, make new friends, pretend to be normal. All the things that Sam ever dreamed about. 

Well, that was the sales pitch anyway. 

The fact was that Dad was tired of the constant bickering and Dean seemed unwilling to pick a side. Instead, his brother found reasons to stay out all night, far more interested in drinking and fucking and fighting than staying with his little brother. It was a knife to Sam's chest every time his brother rolled back to their room after midnight, smelling of whiskey and cherry lip gloss. He would roll over and face the wall when the door opened and bury his head under a pillow while Dean tried to whisper apologies in his ear.

The heavy night time air burrowed under his skin and he sought distraction in the same way as any 17-year-old boy did. His right hand drifted down to the front of his pajama pants, rubbing his cock through the soft flannel. If he could get some release, maybe he could get some sleep. 

Too lazy to get up for lotion or lube, Sam pulled down the front of his pajamas and slipped a hand around his half hard cock. His fingers were rough and the strokes felt more like penance than pleasure. Sam tugged at his balls a few times for good measure and shifted his legs apart, digging his heels into the mattress for leverage. He clenched and unclenched his ass and thighs trying to push along his climax but nothing took. The build-up slipped away like an unmoored boat and his hand fell useless to the side.

Fuck. His body couldn't relax and his mind wouldn't shut down.

Silver ribbons of moonlight poured through the open windows, painting bright stripes across his desk and the documents placed in neat stacks there. Earlier that night, envelopes were opened and college application packages were pulled out, with glossy brochures and printed application forms spread across the dining room table, as Pastor Jim sat next to Sam and asked him what he wanted.

The priest had been a fixture in Sam's life growing up, offering a haven and an ear for hunters like John. Through the years, Pastor Jim taught Sam how to read Latin and pack a salt round. They talked about prayer and confession, and the nature of good and evil.

Tonight, looking at those college applications, the priest offered to write a recommendation letter if that's what Sam wanted.

Laying in the dark, Sam considered what it might mean to leave Dean behind for college, and he realized that maybe it wasn't his choice at all. Dad and Dean had left him behind here, with no word or call for six weeks. Maybe Sam was the one already left behind.

Underneath the drone of the frogs outside the window, another sound rose up. Its rumble was throaty and powerful, like thunderclouds in the distant. Sam jumped up out of his bed and pressed his forehead against the window pane, watching twin headlights bobbing up and down along the curve of the rectory's gravel drive. Sam slipped on his tennis shoes and bolted down the stairs two at a time.

By the time, he threw the porch door open, Dean was leaning up against the Impala's front fender, with crossed arms and a crooked smile. It was a cloudless night and the moonlight gleamed where it touched the Impala's polished curves. Dean always did take great care of the things he loved.

Sam flew down the wooden steps and out onto the driveway, his bare feet skipping carelessly over the rough stones. 

His heart clenched tight when he noticed the missing passenger in the Impala and a thousand questions crossed his mind. 

The first words that rolled off his tongue were, "Why are you here?"

Dean hesitated, kicking at the gravel in front of him. "Dad bought a truck."

He paused and looked up at his brother with a question in his eyes, but Sam couldn't translate the meaning of those four little words. 

After a few heartbeats, Dean continued. "And I wanted to see you, Sammy."

"Oh." Sam bounced on his toes, not feeling the sharp edges of rock that poked at the soles of his feet.

Dean's cheekbones caught the moonlight, but his eyes remained black and unreadable, as beautiful as a charcoal sketch. Sam wondered for a moment if maybe he fell asleep in his room, that this was all a dream, when Dean finally spoke again.

"Dad expects me in Sioux Falls by noon tomorrow. Hop in the car and let's go for a ride."

Sam hesitated to look down at his bare feet and turned back to the house, before Dean grabbed his wrist.

"C'mon, Sam. You don't need any shoes, just you and me taking a drive before the sun comes up. I got something to tell you."


End file.
